


Crumbles Into Nothing

by scruffandyarn



Series: In Your Eyes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Muteness, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffandyarn/pseuds/scruffandyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is being held by Leviathan!Dean, only, she doesn't know it's not the real Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumbles Into Nothing

A hard punch to your cheekbone brought you back to consciousness.  It was hard enough that you almost instantly tasted blood--it had managed to crack one of your molars.  The pain in your cheek didn’t really seem all that much as the nerve endings in your tooth shot pain throughout your skull.  The whole side of your face was throbbing.

For a while there, you thought he’d already hit your pain threshold.  Your fingers and toes were nothing but mangled clumps of flesh--he’d taken great pleasure in crushing each of them with vice grip pliers.  He’d also thoroughly enjoyed slicing your skin open and watching the blood stains on your clothes grow.  Then, after the blood stopped flowing and the wound started to scab, he’d jerk your shirt or pants or whatever the blood had dried to, causing the scab to rip open and the pain to start anew.

Tears leaked down your face at the onslaught of new pain.  You had mistakenly assumed that after three days (give or take--the days were beginning to run together now) of torture, you’d have run out by now.  It wasn’t like you’d been given anything to drink to rehydrate.

“Aw, little bitch gonna scream for me now?”  You _had_ screamed when all this first started, and he seemed to get off on hearing your anguished cries.  For the last twenty-four hours or so, though, you’d been silent.  Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razor blades, but that wasn’t the only reason you’d stopped making noise.  

He’d broken you.  He’d tortured you in ways you’d never imagined were possible, even though you’d spent most of your life as a hunter of all things supernatural.  But it wasn’t so much what he _did_ that broke you.  It was his eyes.

Those stupid green eyes that you’d fallen in love with months ago.  They had seemed so genuine when you’d stared into them your first night with him.  They’d seemed so honest when he’d told you that he wanted you to start hunting with him and his brother.  They screamed his feelings for you even when his lips couldn’t form the words.

You stared into them with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.  They were nothing but a hollow mockery of what you’d once looked into.  How could you have been so foolish to trust this man?

“You’re so beautiful when you scream.”  Dean’s lips slid into a smirk.  He knelt down in front of you, running the blunt edge of the knife he was holding along the ropes that held you bound to the chair you were sitting in.  “Come on, baby.  Give me a smile.”

With the last of your remaining strength, you reared your head back and spit the blood in your mouth on his face.  This earned you no satisfaction, only the knife that was now stabbed into your thigh, pinning your leg to the seat of the chair.  You hadn’t thought it was possible, but a scream was ripped from your mouth.

“Gorgeous.”  He didn’t even bother wiping your blood from his face before ripping the knife from your leg.  He pushed himself up to his full height and sauntered out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

*****  
** **

It might have been days or weeks or maybe just hours, you weren’t sure.  The amount of blood that flowed from your leg through your most recent wound left you weaving in and out of consciousness.

The door creaked open slowly.  You looked over to see Dean  crouched down, gun drawn.  You almost wanted to weep for joy--he was finally going to put you out of your misery.  His eyes landed on you and he immediately holstered his gun and rushed over to you.

“Shit, baby.”  He put his hand on your puffed cheek and you whimpered, trying to move away from him.  You closed your one good eye, just wanting this to be over.  Instead of the pain you were expecting, you felt the ropes around you begin to loosen.  You slumped forward, falling onto the floor, not even having the strength to keep yourself upright.  “Damn it.”  You heard him yell for his brother just before blessed unconsciousness took you once more.

*****  
** **

You came to, on a bed this time, with Dean’s face hovering over yours.  You didn't scream, even though every fiber of your being wanted to.  But no--he'd been feeding off your screams for days.  You weren't giving in.  

You had no strength to move away from him, even though you realized you were free from your bonds.  You whimpered and squeezed your eye shut, wanting to vomit at the feel of his fingertips ghosting over your skin.

“Dean, stop.”  That was Sam’s voice.  You hadn’t heard that voice in so long.  You opened your eye and looked over, but it wasn’t like Sam was actually keeping Dean from touching you.  Fuck--was he in on it too?  


“Sammy, she’s hurt.”  Dean barked, turning to glare at his brother.  "She needs medical attention."  


“She’s also terrified out of her mind.  Look at her.”  Sam nodded in your direction.  Dean turned back, eyes darting over your face.  

“Shit.”  He immediately backed away from you, holding his hands up as if surrendering.  “Baby--.”  You cringed again, shrinking yourself as far back against the bed you were lying on as you could.  “Sam, she needs help.”  He looked at his brother again.  Sam nodded.

“______, hey.”  Your eyes darted back and forth between the brothers, not sure who to be more afraid of.  “Are you OK with me helping you?”  His hands were held out in front of him as well.  He took a tentative step towards you, and you fought the unbearable need to shy away.  At least, if he was going to hurt you, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the torture Dean had already inflicted.

Sam took another few slow steps until he was next to you.  You closed your eye, hoping they’d just finally kill you and end all this.  The cool, wet rag pressed against your leg shocked you enough that you opened your eye back up.

“I’m going to have to stitch this up.”  He nodded to Dean who stepped closer.  You whimpered again, lifting your useless hands in an attempt to keep him away from you.  “OK, OK.  Dean, I’ll have to do this on my own.”

“But she’s my--”

“Dean.”  Sam glared at him.  “Look at how freaking scared she is.”  He pointed at you.  You saw Dean gaze down at you, his eyes watering.  “I think it would be best if you just let me handle this.”

“______,” he pleaded with you, his voice cracking.  He looked like a man on the verge of desperation.  Those eyes of his, though.  They were the same eyes that had looked into yours whenever he clamped one of your digits in his pliers.  The same eyes that lit up at every sound of pain that escaped from your lips.  The same eyes that radiated pride at breaking you.  You closed your own, not wanting to see the fake anguish that they held.  “Damn it.”  You heard a door slam and you tried to curl in on yourself.

“______, can I help you?”  Sam was still by your side.  You opened your eye.  “Please?  I promise, Dean won’t come back in unless you say so.”  You nodded as best you could.  “I know you’re scared--but Dean would never hurt you.  I’d go so far as to say he loves you.”  

You tuned him out, withdrawing to that mental escape you’d tried so desperately to hide in while you’d been the subject of Dean’s “love.”  Now that Dean wasn’t here to carve up every piece of your body, you weren’t coming back out of it.  It wasn’t filled with rolling hills or rippling brooks.  Not even a sense of calmness or peace.  It was a void, an empty space, a nothingness.  And you’d be damned if you were letting anyone pull you out of it again.


End file.
